


Smoke Breaks And Skipping Class

by catfishkid



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward First Times, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, London, M/M, Romance, Teen Angst, secondary school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26102944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfishkid/pseuds/catfishkid
Summary: They're both new kids. Sherlock just wants to solve mysteries and John just wants to fit in. Unfortunately being a teenager means it's never that easy, especially when a murder is thrown into the mix.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Kudos: 6





	1. WILLIAM

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a London secondary School. 
> 
> Pairings: Johnlock, Sherlolly, John/Mary with the possibility of some brief Adlock, Sheriarty, Mystade in the future. ( You know how fickle young 'love' is)
> 
> Quick one off guide for those who don't know English schooling as I will probably use these terms over the course of this story:  
> •Public school same as private school.  
> •Comprehensive school (what most countries would refer to as fee free public school)  
> •Secondary school: attended between the ages of 11-16 (years 7 to 11)  
> •GCSE exams normally taken in year eleven to gain qualifications in core subjects and other optional ones.  
> •Sixth form an institute usually in a secondary school for pupils aged 16-18 (years 12 to 13) who wish to take A-Levels. Follows same basic rules as the school but usually more lenient and treated as young adults. For example my old sixth form couldn't give us detention haha.  
> •A-Levels typically 3, sometimes four subjects a student studies over two years to gain a qualification which would help them get into university or as a qualification that looks better on a CV than a GCSE. (In Scotland they traditionally do something called Higher's instead)  
> •College, like sixth form but a stand alone institute just for 16+ year olds.  
> •University, well what places like America would call college.  
> •And when applying to universities it's for a specific subject (none of this major and minor in a bunch of subjects stuff) and John who wants to be a doctor doesn't need an undergraduate degree to study medicine as it's not post grad only thing over here.  
> •Please ask if anything else needs explaining!

John Watson squirmed nervously outside the head of sixth form's office. It was 8:30 sharp and students rushed past him in the corridors without giving him more than a second glance. The younger years were dressed in navy blue blazers, with matching jumpers and black skirts or trousers with smart shoes. The year 12s and 13s, sixth formers, weren't hard to spot dressed in their own clothes.  
  
Suddenly he felt overdressed in suit trousers, crisp white shirt tucked in and a black tie. His mum had made him wear it, unsure of how to interpret 'casual smart'.  
  
Just then a familiar face came bounding up towards him and took the seat next to his.  
  
"Harry," he smiled at the girl. Keeping the disapproving comments about the length her skirt was rolled up to.  
  
"I can't believe you're actually here big bro!" She said almost to enthusiastically for anybody at school this time in the morning.  
  
"Nor can I," John sighed.  
  
Harry Watson, John's younger sister, she'd been at this school since the beginning of the new school year after moving to London from Edinburgh when their dad found a new job. Whilst John had opted to stay behind with relatives and finish off his last year at school. But unfortunately things didn't turn out to be as simple as that and now he was here too.  
  
"I didn't hear you leave this morning, must have been up early?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry shrugged twiddling her light brown hair of which she'd dyed the ends blonde, much to their parent's despair. "Had some homework to finish off in the computer rooms."  
  
"You have a laptop."  
  
"Didn't save it to a memory stick, only my school log in account."  
  
John could tell this was a blatant lie but questioning his sister's actions was always useless. As long as she wasn't being escorted home by police though, that was making progress from this time last year.  
  
"So this must be John Watson?" said a girl taking a seat the other side of John.  
  
Her hair colour matched Harry's but shorter, along with her skirt.  
  
"You look better than your Facebook profile picture."  
  
"Excuse me?" John's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and Harry laughed.  
  
"This is my friend Louise."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you." John held out his hand politely and Louise hesitantly shook it, like this was a foreign gesture.  
  
"I see you're another one who didn't quite understand the dress code."  
  
"Another one?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry pipped up, "another sixth form boy yesterday, William I think his name is. Full on suit, blazer and all."  
  
"He was cute though."  
  
"Very cute. Gave me a fag too when I asked."  
  
"Harry!" John exclaimed.  
  
"I mean for Lou."  
  
John rolled his eyes and the two girls giggled to themselves whilst a ringing bell echoed through the halls.  
  
Just then a man stepped out of the office and cleared his throat loudly.  
  
"Harry, Louise form rooms now. Quickly please."  
  
John's sister and friend jumped up from their seats and nodded.  
  
"Good luck bro," Harry whispered in his ear before making her way down the hall with Louise in tow.  
  
John stood up and extended his hand to the man. "John Watson, sir."  
  
"Ah, nice to meet you." The man shook his hand with a firm confident grip, his eyes narrowed as he quickly gave John the once over. John instantly knew this wasn't a man to be messed with.  
  
"You can call me Mr Smallwood."  
  
Mr Smallwood led John into the office and motioned for him to take a seat on the opposite side of the desk to himself.  
  
"You're the second student to dress so smartly this week," He smiled. "Such a lovely thing to see. Most sixth formers take advantage of the 'smart casual' dress code."  
  
"Aha..." John murmured, hoping he wasn't expected to dress like this every day from now on.  
  
"So it's my understanding that you studied A-Levels in your previous school, not Highers?"  
  
"That's correct."  
  
"Your reports show that you was doing quite well, I see no reason why you'll have no problem settling in here. From an academic point of view."  
  
"I always study hard." John grinned. He was proud of the fact that he'd completed his A-Level in physics one year early.  
  
"From a social point of view though, we do not tolerate repeated incidents of fighting at all."  
  
John's grin faded, what happened at his last school had not been his fault.  
  
"I'll be on my best behaviour sir."  
  
"I'm sure you will be." Mr Smallwood pulled out a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk and handed it to John.  
  
It was his timetable.  
  
"Chemistry, Biology and maths. Is that correct?"  
  
"Yup." John smiled as his eyes scanned the timetable. The weekly four, one hour lessons per subject were split up nicely. Giving him Tuesday and Friday afternoons off and a late start on Monday mornings.  
  
"You are expected to be in form for registration at 8:45 every morning. What you do between your lessons is your business whether you go out, home or stay in school. As long as you don't disturb the rest of the years. There's a common room, quiet study room and library that you have access to. Break is at 10:55 for twenty minutes and lunch is at 1:20 to 2pm."  
  
John nodded as his brain took in all the new routine. Much easier than his old school where he was required to attend an afternoon registration period after lunch even if his last lesson for the day finished hours before.  
  
"We also have a range of extra curricular activities I'm sure you'll find out about."  
  
"Great..." John murmured, he was eager to get playing his favourite sport.

* * *

  
"Drive faster! You're making me late again Mycroft," said Sherlock as he pulled out the headphone from his right ear.  
  
"So it's my fault that once again one of your stupid experiments went wrong?"  
  
"Well if you wasn't so greedy and just settled for toast for breakfast."  
  
"You put spiders in the box of weetabix!"  
  
"It was necessary to test..."  
  
"Oh I don't even want to know, I've had enough of your childish hobbies."  
  
"Science is not childish."  
  
"You're more capable of such immature things. If you put your mind to it I'm sure you could discover a new element or something."  
  
"That sounds boring," Sherlock sighed and let his head hit the passenger side window with a small thud.  
  
His big brother never understood him.  
  
Mycroft stopped the car at a red light which seemed to last for ever as an awkward silence loomed over them.  
  
Sherlock could almost hear his brother straining to think of something to say.  
  
"How was your first day then yesterday?"  
  
"I already told you, boring."  
  
"Is everything that doesn't involve putting bugs into cereal boxes boring to you Sherlock?"  
  
"The pupils are more idiotic than at St James', the teachers don't seem to understand I work better alone and whose idea was it to have mixed schools? It's like mating season on the discovery channel."  
  
Mycroft laughed at this and Sherlock allowed himself a smile.  
  
He was wrong. Sometimes his brother did understand. Understand what it's like to be 'a bright cookie' as their father would say, surrounded by morons.  
  
"Well less than a year left and you're free as long as you don't screw up again."  
  
"I didn't screw up the first time," said Sherlock defensively. "It was a minor misunderstanding."  
  
"I would hardly call growing cannabis in the school nursery a misunderstanding."  
  
"It was for my research."  
  
"And then pointing out Mr Hartley having an affair with his secretary and Mr Johnson in front of the whole year. Was that research too?"  
  
"Public interest."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
Sherlock didn't hear anything else his brother said, he put his right earphone back in and turned the music on his iPhone up loud, stopping it only when the car pulled up at the school gates.  
  
"I can smell the hormones from here," Mycroft scoffed as he looked disgustedly at a boy and girl who looked no older than 13 walk past hand in hand.  
  
Sherlock leaned over to the back seat and grabbed his backpack which was already weighed down with textbooks on his second day.  
  
"Take this," said Mycroft pulling a £10 and £5 note out of his wallet.  
  
"Thanks." Sherlock didn't hesitate in quickly taking the cash but he was confused, his brother hardly ever gave him money when he asked.  
  
"You'll need to put some on your Oyster card and get yourself something to eat on the way home."  
  
"Why? Aren't you picking me up?"  
  
"I'm working late tonight."  
  
"Bloody hell!"  
  
"Unfortunately brother this is what happens in the adult world."  
  
"I hate taking the bus and tube. At least give me enough money for a cab."  
  
"You can get a cab when you get a job to pay for one."  
  
"Prick," Sherlock muttered under his breath as he left the car.  
  
"I heard that!" Mycroft said.  
  
"Good!" Sherlock slammed the door shut and he heard his brorther drive away.  
  
He studied his timetable as he walked towards the building, ten minutes left of registration and then a free period before chemistry.  
  
He picked up his pace down the hallway knowing he'd probably get in trouble for missing registration and he didn't need teachers on his back already.  
  
"William!"  
  
Dammit, teachers calling his name like that was never a good sign. He turned round and faced the man walking towards him.  
  
"Just the student I needed to see, William."  
  
"Mr Smallwood," Sherlock nodded. "And please, don't call me William."  
  
"Ahh yes, sorry, you prefer Sherlock. Anyway as you're both new and in the same form I'd like you to show John..."  
  
Just then Sherlock became aware of the lad straggling just behind the teacher.  
  
He was dressed smartly but not out of choice, his tie was loose and either he hadn't noticed or he didn't care but, part of his shirt was untucked. He stared at his shoes, usually a sign of shyness but the way he carried himself, hands clasped behind his back and stood up straight he seemed confident.  
  
"William, are you listening to me?"  
  
"Erm, yeah."  
  
"Good, now you lads stay out of trouble and feel free to come to me if you have any problems."  
  
Once Mr Smallwood had retreated back down the corridor, John held out his hand.  
  
"Hi, John Watson."  
  
Sherlock took the shorter lad's hand. Firm grip, rough palms, knuckles slightly bruised.  
  
"Fighting on the rugby field?" Sherlock asked dropping his arm to the side.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, it was a simple enough question. "Did you have a fight on the rugby field?" He repeated slowly.  
  
"No,” replied John sounding both frustrated and confused.  
  
"But you have been in a fight recently and you do play rugby?"  
  
Bewildered, John looked back at the head of sixth form's office. "Was you listening outside the door?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Then how? What?"  
  
"Look at that," Sherlock nodded at the clock on the wall. "Five minutes of registration left, we better get going."  
  
He continued on his way towards the classroom he needed and seconds later he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"William," John huffed. "Wait up mate, I don't know the way and tell me how you know about the rugby and fight?"  
  
Sherlock turned his head back to him with a smile across the face. "The name's not William, it's Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."


	2. JIM

During registration period Sherlock took the same seat he had yesterday at the back of the class, a small table to himself whilst John took one in the middle of the room with a few other students.  
  
The same girls who had been overly keen to introduce themselves to him yesterday were now all over John.  
  
How fickle.  
  
But that was to be expected with teenagers around someone of the sex they were attracted to and unlike himself, who had quickly made his disinterest known, John didn't seem to mind the attention.  
  
"William Holmes." Their form tutor called out. Mrs Hudson, a woman Sherlock would place in her sixties who taught home economics so he believed.  
  
"It's Sherlock," he called back.  
  
"Oh yes sorry dearie, I'll try and remember that." She gave Sherlock an annoyingly kind smile and he just nodded.  
  
Minutes after registration, the bell for first period went. Sherlock waited until everybody including the teacher had rushed off, he hated having to manoeuvre past the herd. Once he left he found John leaning against the wall going over his timetable.  
  
"So where's the best place to hangout during free periods?" he asked glancing at Sherlock.  
  
"I only started yesterday, I have yet to explore the place properly."  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"Do you think they'll get annoyed if I use study periods for as smoking periods?"  
  
"Probably mate."  
  
Sherlock set off to the common room, he too had a free period. Unsurprisingly John tagged along.  
  
"Are you going to tell me now?"  
  
"Tell you what?"  
  
"How you know about the fight and rugby?"  
  
"Hmm..." Sherlock stopped walking and smirked. This is what he done best.  
  
"This is an easy one. Your knuckles on your left hand are bruised with a small cut, you could have hit an inanimate object but that combined with the small cut above your lip and the fading bruise around your neck makes me say a fight. Perhaps beaten up but you don't seem like the type of person not to fight back. Also you could have been mugged though presuming the muggers for some reason didn't take these items, but not many people would wear an expensive watch, a Tag Heuer model that retails for around £3000 am I correct?"  
  
John nodded.  
  
"Or walk around with a smartphone sticking out their back pocket if that has been the case. I could be wrong however, the cut above your lip could be from playing rugby which I know you do from the fact I saw you glancing at the rugby club poster on the wall as we shook hands."  
  
"Okay..." John's jaw literally dropped. "Wow."  
  
"This is the part where you usually call me weird or something. Don't bother I've heard all variations of the word before."  
  
"That's bloody sick mate!"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Like what you did just there, amazing."  
  
"Oh," Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, what a horrible misuse of the English language. "Please don't use that word in that context in my presence again."  
  
John laughed, "Seriously you actually worked that out just by looking at me for a few seconds?"  
  
"Yes. Simple observation, it's not hard."  
  
"You're a genius."  
  
"Kind of. Anyway shall we continue to the common room."  
  
The pair walked to the other side of the school where the sixth form common room was located. On the way John kept complimenting Sherlock on his deducing skills which was met with a slight smile and nod.  
  
Sherlock hadn't had this positive of a reaction in a long time.  
  
It was nice.  
  
There was loads of comfortable looking chairs in the common room which students seemed to have moved to accommodate their own social groups. During his brief visit into this area yesterday Sherlock remembered most of the same faces sitting in the same areas.  
  
There was also a couple of tables and computers, a small kitchen area with fridge, microwave and kettle plus a row of lockers lined one of the walls.  
  
Before Sherlock could suggest they took seats on some of the chairs that hadn't been taken today or yesterday, John had confidentially strode over to a couple of girls sitting down.  
  
By the time Sherlock got there John was already introducing himself.  
  
"I'm Mary," said a girl with short blonde hair and then she turned to her friend, whose long brunette hair was tied back and was shyly hiding behind her chemistry text book.  
  
"And this is Molly."  
  
"Hi," the brunette lowered her book, took one look at Sherlock and blushed.  
  
John look at her and then Sherlock and winked at him. "This is William."  
  
"Sher..." He didn't have the chance to correct himself as John had shoved him into the seat next to Molly. "Sherlock," he repeated straightening his shirt.  
  
It didn't take long before John was exhibiting the same flirtatious behaviour as he had done during registration. He included both of the girls in conversation but it was obvious his main focus was on the blonde one which led to gaps of awkward silence between Molly and Sherlock.  
  
"What are you studying?"  
  
"Huh," Molly had spoken so quietly Sherlock had to take a second to process that she was talking to him and not to herself. "Maths, chemistry and biology," he replied only to be polite.  
  
"Really!" John exclaimed now joining their conversation. "So am I. I don't suppose you want to study medicine? Because that would be a crazy coincidence."  
  
"I don't," said Sherlock. Screwing his face up at the idea his last school had tried to force upon him at every opportunity.  
  
"I do," Molly spoke up. "I want to be a pathologist to be exact."  
  
"Grim," John chuckled. "I think I want to specialise in sports medicine or perhaps plastic surgery, that's where the big bucks are. So does that mean Sherlock and I will be joining you in the same lessons?"  
  
"Chemistry and biology yes. But I'm not doing maths, I'm doing physics."  
  
"Oh, I started physics A-Level in year 11 and finished it last year. If you want any help studying then I'm your man." John winked, then he said to Mary, "I'm sure I could help you study too."  
  
She rolled her eyes and smiled, "You don't even know what I'm studying."  
  
"Then tell me."  
  
"Guess."  
  
John studied her for a moment then nodded towards Sherlock. "This guy's like a mind reader, trust me. I bet he'll know."  
  
Sherlock glared at him. "It's not mind reading," he said. "Observation and deduction."  
  
"Sounds interesting," said Mary. "Well deduce me and tell me what I'm studying."  
  
"Biology, sociology and law," he said without hesitation.  
  
"Wow, how the hell did you know that so fast?" Mary questioned. She turned to John. "How'd he know?"  
  
"Mind reader, I told you," replied John.  
  
"Observation," Sherlock corrected. Failing to point out the fact that all he'd observed was the timetable poking out of the sociology text book on the windowsill behind her.  
  
John and Mary began flirting with each other again and Molly busied herself on her phone which Sherlock guessed was to avoid the awkward silence so he just put in his headphones and hit shuffle.  
  
Listening to music and flipping through his textbooks made the time pass quickly. When it was twenty minutes until the bell for next period, he excused himself which largely went unnoticed with John and Mary engrossed at making lovey dovey eyes at each other and Molly making a point of trying to ignore him.  
  
He made his way out into the playground and round to the back of the cafeteria which overlooked the staff carpark. He'd learnt yesterday that he was least likely to be disturbed here; it was a secluded area during lesson time.  
  
He pulled out a packet of tobacco from his backpack and the roll up he didn't get to start this morning as Mycroft had disturbed him was scrunched up inside. Waste not, want not. He straightened it out as best he could and lit it up.  
  
The first inhale felt like ecstasy to him, he held it for as long as possible without needing to cough. He knew he shouldn't enjoy indulging in these things as much as he did of late but he just couldn't help it. It helped pass time and boredom when needed.  
  
Sherlock was so caught up in his smoke that he almost missed the figure making his way through the parking lot in his direction.  
  
It was a boy about the same age as him. But not a student here, upon his navy blue blazer pocket a coat of arms was emblazoned that Sherlock recognised as belonging to that of a near by public school. A school that had turned him down.  
  
The boy had perfectly combed black hair and walked slightly slouched with his hands in his pockets; despite this he had a sort of swagger in his step like he owned the place. His dark eyes complimented the menacing scowl and smirk he wore. He marched up to Sherlock like a man on a mission.  
  
"Hi," a thick Irish accent came out of the lad's mouth as he reached him. Despite the friendly tone for some reason Sherlock didn't trust him.  
  
"How did you get in here?" Sherlock asked throwing the remnants of his roll up to the ground and stamping on them. "You need a code for that carpark gate."  
  
"Well if you need the code to get in then I must have it obviously."  
  
Sherlock hated being patronised but something about this boy intrigued him apart from the automatic distrust. "Well I think you have the code for the wrong school."  
  
"You're new here aren't you?"  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
"Haven't seen you around." He stuck out his hand and Sherlock hesitantly took it. A firm grip, as expected. "Jim Moriarty, hi."  
  
"Hello," Sherlock replied, plastering a obviously fake smile upon his face and dropping the handshake. He took the chance to give Moriarty the once over but infuriatingly he couldn't make out any interesting deductions of yet.  
  
"I'm here looking for a girl if you care to help?" Asked Moriarty.  
  
"A girl?" Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. If there was deduction he would have had to make it was that this boy definitely wasn't in town for a female.  
  
"You sound shocked." Moriarty straightened up but his feigned offended tone of voice was given away by the smirk he wore. "But honestly, I haven't been too successful picking up boys by frequenting school carparks."  
  
Before Sherlock knew it, Moriarty had Sherlock's back up against the wall. His mouth close to Sherlock's ear.  
  
"Yet," he said with a pop of his bubblegum.  
  
Since when was he chewing gum; Sherlock must have missed that.  
  
"Sorry, I can't help you there." Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly even though his heart had sped up a beat. He hated people in his personal space especially such strange people.  
  
The bell for next period rung and Moriarty stepped back chuckling. Sherlock must have missed the joke, not an uncommon thing.  
  
"Looks like you better run along to class and I have a girl to find. Until next time Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty stuffed his hands in his pockets and begun to make his way around to the playground that was filling up with children and idle chatter.  
  
Sherlock wondered just how Moriarty planned to move around the school undetected in his uniform to find whatever girl he was looking for.  
  
What an odd boy.  
  
Also, Sherlock didn't remember mentioning his name to him. He quickly followed around the corner, planning on asking him who exactly he was but the playground was full of pupils and Jim Moriarty was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"You lost mate?"  
  
Sherlock spun round, "John, did you see..."  
  
"Come on Sherlock, maths class now. I heard the teacher is a bit of a demon." John was literally pushing him towards one of the buildings and then he stopped to get something out of his bag and handed it to Sherlock.  
  
"Lynx?"  
  
"If I'm going to spend the lesson sitting next to you the least you can do is not smell like fags."


End file.
